Cutting Through the Noise
by Sandrine Shaw
Summary: Getting Ray to shut up once he was on a roll was next to impossible. [Short Atomwave prompt fill for the prompt "first kiss".]


**Cutting Through the Noise**  
by Sandrine Shaw

Getting Ray to shut up once he was on a roll was next to impossible. Harder than making Lisa stop gushing over some pretty golden thing that had caught her eye for their next heist, or cutting short one of Leonard's rants when his favorite Scarlet-clad hero hadn't paid him as much attention as he'd liked. At least both Snart siblings had the common sense to be distracted by Mick setting things on fire. Ray... not so much.

The science babble, Mick had learned to tune out: all those times Ray got overly excited like a kid at Christmas and started fanboying over whatever crazy shit was trying to kill them on any given day instead of blasting it out of existence. Dinosaurs. Giant robots. Death rays. Psycho speedster scientists from the future. Mick usually got the Heat Gun fired up by the time Haircut was through with his raving.

Whatever. Mick was used to it.

It was the awkward fumbling for words that Mick couldn't stand, when all the insecurities hiding behind Ray's sunny smiles and the thin veneer of overblown ego came breaking through: the self-deprecation, the apologies, the underlying assumption that Ray was somehow not good enough. (Not smart enough. Not strong enough. Not heroic enough. Not a good enough partner or friend. Not _enough_.)

Case in point: Ray pacing back and forth in their cell, muttering under his breath, "I should have known there'd be a failsafe."

Mick ineffectively kicked at his feet from where he was sitting, frowning up at him. "Haircut. Sit down and shut up. You're giving me a fucking headache."

Ray stopped moving at last, coming to a halt in front of Mick. "But it's my fault. If I'd figured out the logarithm earlier, then they wouldn't have caught us and we wouldn't be stuck here, waiting for them to come back. Do you think they'll torture us? Or maybe they're just gonna kill us. Which would be just as bad, I guess. Oh God, what if I got us killed? I can't believe I—"

Mick's hand closed around Ray's wrist, and the bones felt fragile and breakable in his grip. He gave them a brief squeeze, probably a bit too hard, on the side of painful rather than reassuring.

"I said shut up."

Ray's face went beautifully blank, like the touch had overwritten his loop of self-flagellation. It only lasted a few seconds; Mick knew the exact moment Ray's mind started whirling again, and he couldn't have that. Rising to his feet, he pulled Ray close and swallowed whatever bullshit he was about to ramble with his mouth, silencing him.

Ray stood stiffly for a moment, frozen, before he melted into the kiss. Lips opening under Mick's, soft and pliant, tasting of peppermint and copper. His hands came up to clutch Mick's jacket, holding on to him like he was a lifeline.

It was nice. Mick wouldn't have minded kissing him for a bit longer, maybe doing a little more than kissing, but… Well. Not the fucking time or the place. Snart always used to tell Mick that his impulse control was shit, and he was probably right, but Mick's survival instincts worked just fine. Most of the time, anyway.

He pushed Ray away, a little more gently than he usually would have. "We ain't dead yet, Haircut. You're gonna get us out of here. You always do."

Ray blinked, expression blurring through a series of emotions from worry to confusion, and there itfinally was: determination. "Right." He nodded, and if it looked a little like it was himself he was trying to convince, well, Mick wasn't going to argue. "You're right. I can do this."

He stepped away and went to fiddle with the electronic lock of the door, fingers flying over the keypad, too fast for Mick to keep track.

A few seconds later, he turned back around. "Hey, Mick? Did you just kiss me to shut me up or, um—" His voice trailed off and his eyes flickered to Mick's lips.

Mick snorted and shook his head. Stupid kid. If it had been all about shutting him up, he'd just have punched him in the face. Might not have been the worst idea, actually; it sure as hell would have saved him from this conversation.

"Focus, Haircut," he grunted. "Escape now, making out later."

Ray's smile burnt brighter than the core of a flame. "Got it."

End


End file.
